Limitless
by Cyrelia J
Summary: Julian Bashir wasn't undamaged by his genetic enhancements- he was just far better at hiding it. The Lethean's attack is the catalyst for the old darkness to resurface and Julian decides to play a dangerous game with one Elim Garak. Garak/Bashir. Alternate Reality diverging from 3x18.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek Deep Space Nine of any of it's characters. I'm also not making any money off of this and all I own is a Dr. Bashir figure I got for Xmas.

Note: This story is a rather dark "what if" exploring the idea of a Dr. Bashir who wasn't quite so fortunate with the surgery for his genetic enhancements as he was in the show. A warning for violence, sex, language, and OOCness. I'm writing this as an alternate reality but still following the same events as the series. Main pairing is Garak/Bashir with a few side smatterings of Julian Bashir/other men/women. C&C is always welcome especially if my science and other canon is totally awful. Thanks!

Limitless

By Cyrelia J

Prologue

_The promenade is empty. That's the first thing that Doctor 'Julian Bashir notices when he opens his eyes. The second thing he notices is the complete and utter silence._

"_Hello?!" The memory of the Lethean's attack is still fresh in his mind as he walks towards Quark's Bar. He steels himself, expecting to see the Ferengi cowering behind the bar beneath a violent assault. Julian swallows with those hesitant steps but forces himself to enter. There's no noise, no disruption, nothing but quiet. The bottles behind the bar are neatly in place- every facet of the bar is photographically perfect. Julian looks up and counts the fasteners on the ceiling of the farthest sector. They're exactly as he recalls they should be. He frowns; even __**his**_ _dreams lack this level of precision._

'_But if this isn't a dream then the alternative is far worse…'_

"_Hello?!" He yells as loudly as he can and doesn't register an accompanying thrum in his throat even as his ears replicate the sound exactly as he imagines it should be. 'I'm not dreaming… but this can't be reality as I know it either.' Reliving his last route, Julian walks to the security office. The steps echo but his feet still don't quite feel the floor properly. It seems as if his palms ought to be sweaty as he imagines Garak somehow waiting there once again. 'But that wasn't really Garak now, was it?' There's no moisture and seemingly no need for respiration and it only makes the questions grow exponentially in his mind. Julian's pulse accelerates- at least he thinks that it does- as he nears the security office. His footsteps seem to grow louder and yet his body feels exactly the same: static. Julian sees as he reaches the doorway that the office is as deserted as the rest of the station seems to be. He can't help the way his eyes measure the dimensions of the opening._

'_Stop it.'_

_Julian forces his attention away. 'It's unnatural. It's suspicious. All of it.' He frowns as he steps through the doorway almost expecting some otherworldly presence. He senses nothing._

"_Nothing?" Julian's head jerks up abruptly as he hears his own voice speaking to him. No, that's not __**his**_ _voice. 'It can't be…'_

"_Is that what I am now?" He looks past the main security office, back to the holding cells in the brig and against every instinct he has, he walks back. 'It doesn't matter. He's locked away. All of __**that**_ _is still locked away.' But he needs to be sure. Julian approaches the last cell almost holding his breath. It's empty. "It's funny. __**You**_ _calling __**me**_ _nothing." Julian whirls as the voice is suddenly behind him and as ready as he's told himself he would be in this situation he still takes a step back._

"_How did you get out?" A mad part of him thinks as he looks at the figure in front of him how terribly cliché it is that the darker twin must always have some sort of facial hair- his other self seems equally amused._

"_You were looking for __**him**__, weren't you?" the other Julian asks with a playful grin as he stalks closer. Julian takes a deep breath but holds his ground as he meets that look of lazy seduction with a level stare._

"_How. Did you get out?" he asks again firmly. He doesn't retreat. He doesn't cower. Still, he cannot help but flinch when the other Julian's fingers brush the side of his face. That head cocks to the side, long bangs falling over his face in a manner that he himself would never allow- that and the damn ridiculous Dorian Grey beard. There's a ghost of a memory just then of the depilatory etching over skin- of his own eyes looking into the mirror with cold confidence and he shoves it away. Julian turns his head from the touch and steps back._

"_And I suppose this is where I ask another question that you in turn will ignore and the pattern will continue unto infinity or until I finally kill myself of bloody boredom."_

"_You don't belong out here." Julian's eyes shift to the holding cells._

"_When you consider, __**doctor**__," emphasized with predictable disdain, "That I am nothing more than a physical manifestation... say a personification of what you would term your 'less desirable traits' I don't in fact 'belong' anywhere." He crosses his arms and toys with a lock of hair not even looking at him. The coquettish gesture makes Julian anxious and he steps forward making to grab that wrist down._

"_Would you stop that," he hisses as if someone might see. His other self easily dances out of the way._

"_Super human reflexes, remember? I __**am**_ _genetically flawless, after all." That smile is mocking and Julian looks down at his own hand wondering why he was unable to catch a creature who should be his perfect equal._

_The shadow Julian laughs in front of him. Again his eyes dart to the nearest holding cell._

_"You could do it too, you know- if you weren't so afraid."_

_"Afraid?"_

_"Of your potential. __**My**_ _potential. What I am and what you should be."_

"_What you are," Julian fires back with a frightening recollection, "is nothing more than a morally bankrupt monster." He shakes his head feeling his heart beating faster as the memories flood his head as if they were truly his own. "__**You**_ _are a mistake. An aberration." His face feels flush with anger and he feels more real than he has since he first opened his eyes. "__**You**_ _are... __**were**_ _one wrong step away from the Institution and __**I**_ _am Doctor Julian Bashir- a respected Starfleet doctor and I will __**never**_ _go back to being you!" This has to stop. 'I have to make this stop.' Julian rushes to the nearest holding cell desperate to open the door. The console feels like a plastic prop beneath his fingers and as he slams his palm against it in frustration it falls and clatters tot he ground with a hollow sound. He looks up sharply feeling the other behind him._

"_It won't work for you." The playfulness is gone and Julian recognizes the practiced expression of menace and looks away. 'It used to feel good, didn't it, Julian. You liked it when they forced you to turn that look on. You __**loved**_ _reminding them that you were the one in control- that you were...'_

"_Open the door!" Julian yells turning around furiously._

"_You never even checked the cells, __**doctor**__." The words are spoken with disdain. "You never checked the security office. You never checked the monitors. You never even __**thought**_ _to make sure that ickle Jules was locked away in his nasty cage." Those hands- those damn hands are on him again. Hands which should hold reverence for the lives them beneath them. Hands which should comfort and heal. 'This isn't you, Julian. These aren't your damn hands, Julian. Lock him back up, Julian! Lock Jules back up!'_

"_That's right, poppet, take the key and lock him up." Julian shoves Jules away and runs to the next cell trying once again to open the door._

"_The Lethean did far more damage than you let yourself realize, doctor." Jules circles him idly and as he watches him out of the corner of his eye he recognizes the familiar expression, the disdainful face, that rotten… familiar face that he used to see in the mirror. 'You don't see that face any more when you look in the mirror... you don't... you don't __**want**_ _to see that face, Julian.'_

"_That's right then. Go on and have a good look, doctor." 'Don't look. Damn you, Julian if you ever had a brain in that head of yours.' Julian looks. He drops his hands from the console and doesn't realize that his palms are bruised, that his fingers are swollen._

"_Do you really think..." Julian doesn't see those dark cunning eyes. "...that anyone wants to see you?" He won't feel that white hot invulnerability. Jules takes another step closer to him. "Do you really think..." He will __**not**_ _possess that innate sense of godliness ever again. "…that Elim Garak would ever want you as you are now?" But that bring him up short._

"_We don't have those sorts of desires!" His eyes are wide and the denial passes his lips without hesitation._

"_**You**_ _don't have those sorts of desires, doctor."_

"_They're a liability. You know that as well as I do there are certain parameters of deviance that attract attention-"_

"_-and to step outside of them would invite attention that I can ill afford." Jules finishes the sentence seeming to be far too close even five feet away. "Those aren't your words, doctor. They're mine. Nearly eleven years to the day I spoke those words when I-"_

"_When I-" Julian swallows and closes his eyes. 'I'm a good man. I'm an honorable man. I'm not you anymore. I don't __**need**_ _to be you anymore.'_

"_But you want to." Jules answers his every thought as if they're spoken aloud. "Oh but they don't want anyone in Starfleet who doesn't fit the mold." Jules hisses at him violently, angrily. "Your passion, your intellect, your genius… bugger all that. Who cares about all that when you have the nerve… the audacity… the fucking __**stones**_ _to freely express yourself… to freely love your fellow men and women and demand they see you for the god that you are. You are not an individual, Jules, you are part of the Starfleet collective and if you want to see the stars and change the world and be the goddamn savior of mankind you need to __**conform**__."_

"_They want good, clean, __**law abiding**_ _men and women to be the face of the Federation, Jules. I believe that's what the recruiter told you though perhaps not in so many words." Julian turns just in time to see Odo step through the door of the brig._

"_Is that what it says there, Constable?" Jules looks at the datapad in Odo's hand calculating, and it almost feels as if he's the one speaking. "Then I guess the doctor and I don't really need to rehash that tired old story, do we?" Julian touches his lips just to reassure himself that he's been silent the entire time._

"_You know what it says, Jules. Doctor, I would suggest you leave this to me."_

"_I don't… are you sure that's wise?" Julian hesitates. He looks back and forth between the both of them uncertainly._

"_Is this the best you can do!?" Jules' voice booms, and it seems to Julian that the walls shake. "No wonder the bloody Lethean almost killed you!" That voice overwhelms him and he can feel his legs start to buckle. Julian catches himself on the wall only then noticing that his hands are bleeding. Odo steps between the two of them._

"_The console won't work for you, Jules."_

"_Is that so?" Jules approaches them both confidently, stopping in front of Odo with a smirk. "Go ahead. Read the file. Read every damn line of it because I know what it says better than you do. And more importantly __**I**_ _know what it doesn't say."_

"_Go!"_

"_I…"_

"_Not good enough!" Julian doesn't react quickly enough but then again perhaps he never could. He feels the pull out of time and watches Jules moving effortlessly in that span. It's never worked that way in reality. Only his thought are ever so quick- only his mind works with such rapid motions in the blink of a second. 'That's it then. This isn't a dream or some altered reality. It's just like that attack.' It's the deepest part of his own conscious. He opens his mouth to scream- to warn even a fabricated Odo but even as he does there's nothing but a splash of warm liquid over him. Julian sinks to his knees covering his face, closing his eyes, shutting everything out for just long enough to try and __**think**__. 'Snap out of it. This isn't you. Get up! Open your eyes! Julian!' He can't breathe. He can't move. He can't stand and he can't-_

_Jules is holding him. He feels his chest constricting as he struggles for breath._

_"Get away from me!"_

"_Look at me." The devil whispers in his head and it's only as he feels himself falling into darkness that he finally opens his eyes and tries to break free._

_"Get off me!"_

_"I said-"_

_"Stop it!"_

_The security office is gone. The Promenade is gone. Jules too, is gone. Julian stands up and lowers his hands. They're clean. He looks at his arms and feels his face and hair. Everything is dry. He sees the Starfleet uniform pressed, pristine, and smiles. Right then. It's all gone. It's all-_

_"Doctor!" He hears Garak's voice and realizes that he's in his old bedroom. He sees Kukalaka on the bed and thinks somewhat clinically that this must be the last safe place of his mind. Before the treatments, before the sense of wrongness, before Jules. He hears Garak's voice again and he can't quite remember why he's there. "I can't very well speak with you through the door." 'Right, the door.' Julian walks over and puts a hand on the knob still trying to remember why he's back in his room._

_"This can't wait Garak?"_

_"No, I'm afraid the matter is rather urgent, doctor." Julian shakes his head and opens the door. Well of course Garak wouldn't bother him unless it was something important._

_He doesn't see Garak and tries to shut the door back again. But as soon as the door is open the memories flood him. Jules. Saint Julian. God. Garak. Everything._

_"No." He tries again to shut the door more frantically but he can feel his joints growing more stiff and sluggish. 'Don't do this.' The world is stone. "Please!" Julian tries to close his eyes as the lights flicker out around him. He can't move. 'You can't do this!' His eyes are frozen. He opens his mouth again but it too has turned to marble. 'It's not real, Julian. Wake up.' He tries the door again but this time his hand stops on the knob. 'You're just dreaming wake up! This isn't real, Julian!' He tries to turn and run. His knees are locked. His legs are heavy and somehow he can feel the weight of his own body heavy like a collapsing star as he crashes to the ground. He can't even look up at Jules standing above him, his eyes only staring ahead at the two bare feet in front of him._

"_You're right of course." Jules' footsteps start to slowly fade away as he enters the room. Even so, his voice resonates in the emptiness of the eternal tomb. "This isn't real." Julian sees Kukalaka placed beside him and feels the bear's soft fur brush his face. "__**You're**_ _not real, after all." The light starts to go out around him. "But don't be afraid of the darkness, doctor." One by one the lights fade until there's only a faint glow casting shadows in the endless darkness. "You were never real to begin with."_


	2. Chapter 1

Note: I do like to throw in a lot of random references from other places. I couldn't help but borrow Ogden Salsbury from Dean Koontz's Night chills. Also forgot to mention in the last part the title was completely inspired by the song "Limitless" by Pushmonkey. C&C is always welcome. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

_The briefing had been underway for nearly an hour. Commander Sisko, after a well-earned rest, had given a thorough accounting of his time in the mirror universe to the senior officers. After debating the merits of pursuing the technology necessary to open the dimension again it was Major Jadzia Dax who at last turned the conversation to the topic of their mirror universe counterparts. Dr. Julian Bashir sat back in his chair throughout the entire affair looking distant, his eyes darting repeatedly around the room seeming to measure every bit of it for future reference. His hand twitched every now and then as if desiring to fidget with some unseen object. Julian offered little in the way of conversation- had offered little in the way of contribution at all- even as his own counterpart's escapades were brought to the forefront of the discussion. No one had chosen to comment on it until Commander Sisko looked at him at last with a querying expression._

"_You've been unusually quiet today, doctor."_

_To this Julian raised his eyes, the expression which crossed his face flickering with uncharacteristic irritation for just a moment. He blinked at the question, face going almost completely blank. His eyes darted quickly to the rest of the senior officers before he looked back up at Commander Sisko still remaining seated lazily reclined in the chair._

"_My apologies, Commander." Julian smiled; it bordered on simpering. "I assure you, you have always had my full attention." Chief O'Brien sitting to his right looked momentarily confused by the expression; Julian took immediate notice. He dimmed the grin as he caught the disapproval and stretched his back with a sigh. Captain Sisko raised an eyebrow at the dismissive body language but gave no censure. "All I can offer is that your description of my counterpart sounds bloody dreadful."_

_If Commander Sisko was at all nonplussed by the response he gave no indication of it._

"_Oh I'm sure somewhere beneath the insufferably combative exterior lurked a heart of gold." Julian snorted at that._

"_I think I'll save my benevolence for those who actually deserve it." He had everyone's attention now; everyone was looking at him with concern. Julian met their stares with a look of challenge that dared them to question the statement or his actions._

"_Are you feeling okay, Julian?" It was Miles who asked and Julian turned to look at the Chief. He seemed about to say something, that irritation once more flickering across his face so quickly its existence was questionable. He seemed to think better of it and instead leaned forward resting arms on the table giving somewhere between a sigh and a yawn. "I'm sorry, everyone. I'm afraid I've been out of sorts these last few weeks."_

_There was a pregnant pause as those in the room remembered the Lethean's near fatal attack with sympathy. Julian watched the lot of them discreetly as if confirming something._

"_Well," Jadzia's voice interrupted the quiet moment. As everyone looked at her she seemed to be radiating amusement from some private joke. "Maybe there's a little bit of our mirror selves in all of us."_

_Major Kira seemed horrified at the thought of sharing anything at all with the intendant._

"_Speak for yourself!" _

"_Yes Major," Julian parroted with a soft sleepy chuckle. "Speak for yourself."_

* * *

"Dr. Ogden Salsbury, convicted star date 6169.2 of mass torture, murder, crimes against humanity…" He trails off with another tap of the keypad. "…His research to be completely expunged from Starfleet, purged from Federation databases, erased from the very annals of human history itself." Dr. Julian Bashir stares intently at the brain mapping on screen; the dim lighting of the infirmary after hours gives his eyes an almost alien glow. He smiles as he turns his attention to the chemical simulation of the pharmaceutical compound on the adjacent screen and taps a few more keys. "Until today, that is." He initializes the program and watches the neural activity on the screen almost forgetting to breathe as the 3 dimensional rendering rotates to reflect the different synaptic sectors of the model in front of him. _But now… is it going to stimulate the correct neural pathways for the desired affect…?_

3-Quinuclidinyl Benzilate was the drug which began the process but it is now ending with a combination of Sodium Amytal and…

"Fuck!" Julian catches the slip in the silence of the room. _Of course no one heard you there's no one but you in here at this hour._ Reassured, he stares at the screen again. It isn't enough. Somehow the different memory partitions in the Cardassian brain are still eluding him. Julian takes a step back and swears again at the doctor's ridiculously short haircut and lifts a newly acquired silver chain from under his uniform twining it around his fingers. _Alright, think. You can do this. This is __**nothing**__. This is shite you can do in your sleep. It's just a matter of refocusing and getting rid of all the cobwebs from the last decade… _Julian brings up dosage D and marks it as a failure. The effect is almost perfect but it isn't there yet.

_They said that the night chills resulting from Salsbury's compound were the first clue that something wasn't right._ Julian snorts at that as he crosses his arms and refocuses dropping the chain back beneath his shirt.

"Yes, of course, the night chills." He speaks out loud now. He's alone. Odo has run off on that fool's errand with Garak and no one else in the Security office cares enough to check the monitors- barring any incidents, that is. Julian scoffs as he walks the length of the small office stretching his legs. "Every other glaring sign of complete mental subjugation, every signal of post-traumatic stress, unknown emotional distress, inexplicable physical trauma… And the worthless tits calling themselves "doctor" couldn't even **begin **to piece anything together until a few school children complained of being cold."

_But it does leave a clear indicator of what will be the most obvious sign. _Julian licks his lips thinking of perhaps a better approach to the problem. Chills in humans could be managed and possibly mitigated altogether. _Humans have a higher adaptability where temperature is concerned, after all._ Temperature distortion could even be dealt with but a Cardassian's endocrine system...

"It's already too cold here, isn't it, Garak? And I know how you hate the cold… No, I won't do that to you. It would be unnecessarily cruel and I am nothing if not a merciful god." He laughs softly walking away from the screen with a toss of his head.

'You are nothing if not a madman with a god complex.'

Julian stops with a small smirk.

"I was wondering when you were finally going to show yourself again, doctor," he says out loud.

'You're not going to get rid of me that easily.'

'Pity, that.' His hand is stilled but he isn't concerned. 'Let go.'

'You're not just going to shove me aside so that you can play havoc with innocent people. You are **not** going mockery of my very existence: spit in the face of everything of yours that I've worked to overcome.' Julian takes back control as easily as breathing, flexing the hand looking at his palm thoughtfully as he flexes the fingers.

'That wasn't very nice.' He can feel the hopelessness, the frustration, and he shuts his eyes briefly.

"You were there, doctor." He whispers, the darkness of his mind stretching out before his shuttered vision. "You were there when I held the lot of them in thrall- when they worshipped me like a **god**. You were there when they-"

'I was there when you brainwashed a bunch of high school children into-'

"Hush!" Julian shakes his head, snapping his eyes open. "I don't need you anymore." He runs fingers through his hair and looks at the screen again. Those long fingers twist as if they can pull the strands longer by force of will alone. _But I can fix that soon enough. Soon enough I'll have it all back._ He needs his old body back. He's grown soft, indolent, and far too prosaic for the man who one day thought he would be the next Khan Noonien Singh. _No, better than that. Because I will succeed where-_

The beep of the monitor draws Julian's attention back to the task at hand. The body temperature of the subject is dropping and the side effects are still far too severe. The percentage will have to be dropped to less than 2 percent in order to be satisfactory. Julian is taking far too great a chance as it stands. Salsbury's original formula was far too unpolished for the subject in question; brilliant but sloppy. He 'tsks' and brings up another variation of the formula. _Of course that impotent old tosser didn't have to muck around with Cardassian physiology either_. _But that should pose little obstacle for my abilities._

'Modest, aren't we?' Julian scowls, tempted to shove the doctor back into his dark little cell

'I would think, **doctor**, that dinner the other night would have reminded you... No of course not. Not you- not bloody "Saint Jules".'

'Don't call me that. That's nothing but some twisted caricature you invented to feed your ego.'

'And **you** are nothing but that caricature brought to life; a miserable waste of potential who is far too unworthy to be made into a real boy. But that is, after all, why **I **am back in control.'

Julian brings up formulation 27-A using Stelazine this time. _I should have a world by now, an __**empire.**_ _Not this ridiculous "frontier medicine" that he's..._ The screen changes and he thinks as he watches the simulation that there isn't a terribly great distance from biomolecular augmentation to a little neurological manipulation.

"So Cardassians cannot be hypnotized, Elim Garak? **You** would never fall for such petty human mental trickery?" Julian sharpens his focus as he watches the screen. He doesn't have a lot of time before Nurse Jabara comes on shift. They're all so terribly worried about him of course but he can ill afford to be inconvenienced by their petty feelings. "And the lot of you are all no different than any other of the unremarkable chattel I've been forced to rely on... Perhaps not Jadzia but that is one I don't have time to… Focusss, Jules." Julian speaks to himself softly as he administers 5mg to the mockup his face frozen in concentration as the colors begin to alter. "Salsbury, like Freud believed the subconscious was the dominant aspect of the mind. He believed the id and the ego could be subverted, believed it to the degree that he apparently made a miracle of modern science in a Federation science lab in the middle of nowhere and if a third rate career sycophant can do it…"

_Body temperature holding steady… brain activity receptive, synaptic processes successfully subverted…_ Julian can't help but feel almost giddy as the heart rate and respiration remain stable. "And if a third rate career sycophant can do it- If, Dr. Julian Bashir, underachiever extraordinaire can match that much… Then **I** surely can take it to the next level entirely."

'And you can risk everything I've worked for so far for a wager that exists only in your own mind.'

"And why is that, doctor? That's the question we should be asking ourselves. Why am I 'risking everything' as you so dramatically put it just to prove what I'm sure you'd term a ridiculous point?" He tilts his head to the side indulging in another old habit with a languid blink of his eyes. "Because Jules Bashir- our Six Million Dollar Man- is a far greater adversary than Mr. Garak gives him credit for. Because up until now out itinerant hero has only allowed you to see what he wishes for you to see and the gauntlet was thrown and now…" Julian watches the program finish with a wide grin splitting his face as the computer informs him of success. "Now it's time to sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence."

He hits enter with a small chuckle and begins the preparations for the synthesis. _Yes, good old frontier medicine… where Dust is acquired as easily as dirt… and Ferengi bar owners don't ask any unnecessary questions if you throw enough incentive their way._ Julian triple checks the heat stability and tries to remember the temperature of Garak's quarters. The chocolate might not melt but there's no need to take any unnecessary chances. …_Incentive and favors and an alibi should Odo ask questions when he returns with one Mr. Garak._

"So you want me to take that rod and eat it, do you? No, the only one of us who'll be "eating it" as it were…" Julian checks the clock as he takes the takes the syringe now full of the clear liquid and begins injecting the dark chocolate truffles with care.

"But of course I'm no madman, Garak. Only a naive Federation doctor with genetically enhanced intellect and perhaps far too much time on his hands..." He sets the chocolate down careful to keep the dosages exact. "You shouldn't have run off to join Tain's pointless little war and left me here all by my lonesome." He fills another with equal precision. "It's so terribly… **boring** here without you…" Julian continues until he's reached the last one- enough for a month's supply and quickly disposes of the syringe and clears the history on the replicator. "But I think you'll find-." Leaving his gloves on, he carefully wraps each of the candies in the pretty gold foil making sure to hold to the original creases. "-that I'm far more than even **you** can handle."

This is the easy part of course. The music is where the real challenge lies. Salsbury had used images but that will never work. _The auditory versus optical response from the brain will be far different but…_ Julian runs his fingers over the box top affectionately. _But with muted Cardassian hearing it's a far better gamble to mask the secondary subliminal layer with sound._ And then there are Garak's eyes… _No, those eyes won't miss a trick now, will they? _He turns back to the monitor, quickly shutting down the simulations and letting the data catalogue and file in the Cathedral of his mind. Julian yawns as he glances at the clock just in time to make his exit before anyone realizes he was ever here. _Hurry back, Garak. We need to pick up where we left off. _He walks out feeling renewed energy, whistling "Secret Agent Man" as the doors close behind him.

* * *

"_Harry Houdini, you are under arrest." The name passed from Odo's mouth without the barest trace of irony and Julian, sitting in Quark's bar with one Elim Garak two weeks before the present, watched as the caped man was subsequently arrested for theft. This left standing in the center of the room a Bajoran woman still speaking in fluent Cardassian. The volunteer- who Julian was beginning to suspect was not in fact just a plant- had let the hypnotist know that she'd spent her childhood in a resettlement camp. She'd heard Cardassian spoken and even spoke some herself until she was eleven but couldn't recall a word of that "spoonhead" language today even under threat of torture. Julian had watched with interest and noted that his dinner companion seemed less than impressed with the entire performance. The performer _cum _pickpocket was urged by Odo to bring the woman out of her trance before being led out unceremoniously out of Quarks._

"_Never a dull moment, is there?" Julian smiled blandly, boringly, still testing the waters where Garak was concerned. Garak glanced back over Julian's shoulder to where Quark was presumably protesting his innocence in the entire matter._

"_There are certainly worse ways to spend an evening." It was not quite the agreement he'd been seeking._

"_I suppose when one compares it to say a drunken Cardassian hurling invectives at the patrons it is a touch dull." Right then. The hell with this feeling out rot. Julian was already beginning to tire of the ridiculous doctor charade. He watched as Garak blinked at him momentarily silent at the remark. Julian looked at him with a silent challenge, just daring him to ask the same asinine question that everyone else had been inflicting upon him since the attack._

"_It has been my observation, doctor, that humans find the most vulgar things to be absolutely fascinating." Garak was unwavering as he met Julian's stare projecting his usual air of benign superiority; he had no idea how the doctor suffered it without comment._

"_Surely you're not talking about the performance tonight as well," Julian scoffed. Garak shrugged, giving that evasive look off to the side._

"_It was a most… enlightening experience." _

"_But?"_

"_Well I can't speak for Federation scientists, but the role of what you call 'hypnosis' has very limited practical application in our society… perhaps it merely alludes to the weakness of the human mind." Garak took a forkful of spaghetti carbonara as if parrying a fencing thrust and Julian watched him for a moment wondering how much affront to let show through. _

"_This is quite good; you said it's a dish not often eaten regularly on Earth?" Julian allowed himself to be diverted for the moment by Garak's question._

"_It's rather indulgent for daily consumption… And don't think I'm going to let you slide by with that." He didn't smile but he let the amusement intermingle with just a hint of defensiveness and his mind flashed the ratios of emotion like a chemical composition. Julian wondered at times if this was what it felt like to be an artificial life form. He considered his response, just for a moment. "Perhaps the lack of uses for what has been known for generations to be a useful took in behavioral therapy merely demonstrates a profound lack of cultural imagination." Julian raised his teacup, taking a long drink so that Garak might make his next point. _

"_Imagination, contrary to what is popularly touted amongst less evolved cultures is highly subjective, my dear. I assure you, that you will find most Cardassians to have boundless imagination where it counts." Garak smiled in a way that caught Julian off guard and caused him to nearly choke in his tea. _

"_Are you feeling alright, doctor?" It was the same question he'd anticipated earlier but hardly in the same context. Julian felt his face heat up- in fury where doubtless the doctor would have been embarrassed- and he nodded, forcing himself to stay calm._

"_Too sweet." Julian ignored Garak's curious look at the statement. The doctor remarked smugly in his head that he'd bitten off more than he could handle. 'Let me be the judge of that then.'_

"_You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Garak." Julian offered glancing up briefly then dropping his eyes in a manner that he considered especially flirtatious. There was no rise to the bait but he didn't expect it. He checked off another small test of the other's carefully constructed persona; clearly the doctor wasn't expected to engage in such gestures with other men. "After all, you do have the knowledge of a certain cloak and dagger lifestyle that the rest of us aren't privy to."_

"_More cloak than dagger, I assure you. I __**am**_ _but a simple tailor, after all." There was the response as expected. Garak was a "simple" nothing as far as he was concerned but any other response would have been dreadfully off. Julian picked up his eating pace at about the time it would be expected and shook his head._

_Garak whether intentionally of not continued speaking rather boastfully that even a simple tailor would not be so neatly manipulated by simple human chicanery and Julian unconsciously paused in that way he couldn't help when he had to consider a challenge. 'Eat faster, Jules. You're a human who has a biological imperative to feast when there's no famine and the doctor has already foolishly set the precedent.' The damn doctor had set up __**hundreds**_ _of the small affectations that he would have to maintain for the time being. It was nothing with his ability to quickly process through data and recall but the __**tedium**_… '_It's just another subroutine, right, Jules? It's all in a day's work for Dr. Julian Bashir version 2.0 beta…' Well bollocks to that, he was about to go mad from it all. _

_Julian ignored the doctor informing him that he was free to leave at any time if he didn't find the accommodations suitable. He licked the last of the mashed potatoes from his spoon._

"_You sound awfully sure of yourself," he said with a final mouthing of his lips to the back of the smooth metal. _

"_Doctor," Garak was back to bland condescension. "If a Vulcan cannot hope to pierce the veil of the Cardassian mind, I'm afraid there's little hope for anyone else." 'And that includes me, Is that what I'm to gather from that?' Julian considered his words. 'Is that so, Garak?' he thought feeling that heat rising once more._

'_Don't...'_

'_I wasn't asking __**you**_ _now, was I?' He caught Garak commenting on their races' affinity for eating the eggs of other species for just a moment._

'_Whatever you're thinking...' Julian found his mind wandering once more. _

'_Shut it! He wouldn't say these things so arrogantly if he knew who he was...'_

'_You don't think so? Perhaps you don't know Garak as well as you think you do.' Julian's hand was too still on the fork dipping into the chocolate cake and he forced motion cursing the doctor for his untimely interruption._

'_I'll know him better than you ever managed, you can be assured of __**that.**_'

'_He'll destroy you. Whatever you think you know-.' He was holding the fork too tight. He needed to correct it but that defiance, that __**mockery**__, that-_

"_Is that a challenge, Garak?" He shoved the doctor aside and gave tines of the fork a teasing swipe with his tongue. It was yet another reckless, unscripted affectation but he couldn't be bothered to care anymore. Julian shifted his foot underneath him and almost breathed and audible sigh at the familiar feeling. "Need I remind you that I destroyed you rather neatly a few weeks ago?" He smiled drawing in that brilliant darkness and there might have been just another hint of surprise on Garak's face but let him be surprised. Let him stand in awe and wonder. Julian leaned in letting the tines trail down the side of his face in place of idle hands as Garak too drew nearer. "I don't think you'd find me that easy." Quiet. Deadly. Everything they used to be afraid of._

"_You defeated the incarnation of me that your mind had devised but I assure you doctor in a real game you would not find yourself so victorious." There was a smug raise of those eye ridges that made him boil, ready to stand up, throw the gauntlet down, and destroy everything just like he used to. Between his own anger and the doctor's screaming in his damn head he almost gave in but Julian forced the calm back, thinking if the doctor's experience was good for anything it was the calm that he could bring when he desperately needed it._

"_You don't think terribly much of me do you?" Julian made certain that the laugh was suitably light, suitably airy, suitably bloody Julian Bashir and he thoroughly ignored the pulse red behind his eyes willing it to go away as he laughed of the tension._

"_I think you're the very model of Federation light and goodness, doctor." Julian was unable to tell if there was mockery there but it seemed to him as there might be a subtle mocking emphasis on the word "doctor". "But in the real world, light does not always triumph over darkness." _

_Julian looked at him soberly as the doctor laughed almost maddeningly inside his head._

"_I couldn't have said it better myself."_

* * *

"I know it isn't your birthday but I received a rather large souvenir today and I thought I'd share in the temptation." Julian smiles as he takes his seat and sets the box of dark chocolate truffles between them.

"Ah, such mixed signals from you, Doctor. Exercise program in your left hand, sweets in your right. Are you trying to increase business to the infirmary?" He accepts the box nonetheless and sets it aside. He doesn't miss Julian's eyes following the box for a fraction of a second longer than they ought to and adds it to the doctor's growing list of oddities.

"I assure you, Garak, if the results of your last physical are anything to go by you won't be requiring my services again for a good long while. You're in remarkable shape for a…"

He resettles himself on the chair lifting his eyes up in a manner that Garak imagines must set most women's hearts aflutter. It piques Garak's curiosity to see that look aimed at him. _So then I wasn't imagining it weeks ago, was I? _And yet he considers the box in a far more devious context that the flirtatious subtext would call for_. And here I didn't think you had that sort of duplicity in you. But it's just a tad too sudden, doctor._ "…tailor." Julian says the word with seemingly every bit of amusement he can muster.

"A product of simple living more than my chosen profession," comes the easy parry.

"A profession still up for debate I'd say... Perhaps I ought to hypnotize the truth out of you." Julian teases him with a mystical wiggle of his fingers. Garak's eyes flicker between the digits and the Idanian spice pudding in front of him cataloguing the gesture as he answers with nothing but a small amused smile.

"But actually," Julian is rather pleased with himself and allows a similar expression to appear on his own face. "I'd taken the time to enjoy your present this past weekend." He watches those eye ridges raise in surprise and makes a subtle return gesture in kind.

'He probably thinks you're lying.'

'Oh but the good doctor would never lie about such a thing, would he?'

"I'm afraid I was rather distracted by the..." He pauses as if fishing for a word waiting, slowly counting down to emphasize exactly where he needs the conversation to go. "Well, the soundtrack for lack of a better word." He drinks his tea and lets Garak consider. _Lead into the mirror slowly. And then guide him like a poor blind child... _

"Soundtrack, doctor?"

"The music I mean. I don't think I've ever been in a holonovel that makes such use of well... in a film we'd say a soundtrack. But it wasn't an orchestral suite or just ambiance like a lot of programs run but I could **feel** it." He leans in intently for emphasis waiting to see if Garak will mirror him.

Julian isn't disappointed as Garak leans in just the slightest amount and as he explains the vibrato and bass calibrated to create an almost second heartbeat during scenes of heightened intensity. Julian sits back and takes care to once more eat with his own usual starving animal's pace and slowly, ever so slowly shifts his posture when he asks about Cardassian music on the whole. He subtly picks up his tea at the same time that Garak does the glass of rokassa juice.

"Really, doctor," Garak says setting his drink down and Julian's eyes catch the subtle preemptive movements of muscle which allow for a near seamless mirror this time. "There is no amount of description which would do Cardassian music true justice." Julian nods, looks off at the other patrons briefly as if considering the words. _Go on then. Make the proposal already._ Julian's body language betrays no impatience even as he does mental paces inside of his head. He can almost feel the god forsaken doctor laughing at him.

Garak takes that moment to study him almost delighted at the turn lunch is taking. _You want something, doctor. It's so plain on your face, so plain with your little human tricks. You want it so badly you're actually tempting me to give it to you._ Garak has a hunch of course- he wasn't lying when he told Julian the reverence Cardassians held for experience.

"I can't say that I've ever really heard any sort of Cardassian music before. To hear Major Kira tell the lot of you entertain yourselves with the screams of dying Bajorans." Another small head tilt as Garak listens amused- another perfect mirror.

"A worthy symphony to be sure, but far from the best that the greatest Cardassian composers have to offer."

"Is that a fact?" It's painfully obvious, of course. But the clear fact that he's trying to manipulate Garak into initiating the proposal all the more curious. _And Tain always said your curiosity would lead to no good end in our profession. _But Tain is no longer here and Garak has precious little left to anchor him save his memories.

"It seems almost a shame," Garak says at last with a sense of self gratifying theatric, "that during our entire acquaintance we've never had an opportunity for a greater cultural exchange than literature." He sits back thoughtfully and watches Julian do the same. _I wonder if I dropped my fork, doctor, would you ape that as well? _More than that gesture however is the unconscious ghost of a smile there reinforcing the good behavior. _My what naughty little tricks you have, my dear._

_It's almost a disappointment that you aren't proving to be more of a challenge, Mr. Garak. _Julian reminds himself not to remain too still when Garak plays perfectly into his cues. But nether can he draw his leg up to his chest and indulge unabashedly and he curses the doctor's insufferably staid body language.

"I'm surprised you'd miss an opportunity to lord superior Cardassian culture over my head," he murmurs only just barely aborting the hand raising to toy with his hair.

"I do have my more charitable moments, doctor. But perhaps my equanimity has been a disservice to you after all and for that, I shall see to your further education." He considers what to offer Julian and in turn observes at the very least a feigned contemplation from the doctor as well. _Well played._ But he waits and takes another spoonful of pudding trusting his hunch that Julian must have a particular motivation and finds his answer soon enough.

"I'm sure you've heard a lot of the earth music played around the station since the Federation took control of the station." Julian looks almost wicked cradling the tea cup with both hands having dropped the mimicry entirely. "But I'm equally certain you've never heard the more shall we say... subversive music that we consider not particularly palatable for foreign ears." _Or human ears as well if our mother is anything to go by... My mother... the doctor's mother... the damn woman is somebody's bloody mother._ He notes Garak's interest and lets a few careful drops of genuine excitement filter in. "A lot of the electronic popular music has been carefully marketed and tested to produce the most pleasing and relaxing sound. Music executives spend God only knows how much money into those sorts of things. For a time it was almost impossible for say a good old fashioned garage band to make any real money. But even at the height of synthetic and electronic movement, there have always been those continuing the true sound of metal, of industrial, real hard rock." He remembers the few live concerts he'd attended on Earth. _Overlay the true emotions with the false ones, Jules. You want to make it good for him now, don't you? _

"Well, anyway, I guess what I'm saying is that I have a few recordings that predate a lot of the current earth compositions and really are what I would consider the foundation of a lot of modern music." _Hint of truth._ "As long as you aren't afraid of any back masking." He says it joking and confirms to himself that Garak doesn't register any recognition of the term.

"Back masking, doctor?" Garak asks with an appropriate amount of interest taking another slow spoonful of pudding.

"It's quite fascinating, really. In the 20th century the earliest media were recorded on vinyl records- flat discs made of polvinyl chloride pressed with a spiral modulated groove to reproduce audio. A needle would then run along the groove transmitting the sound to an amplifier. Not very practical but..." He shrugs. "But it allowed for- as some accused- a hidden message to be encoded onto the media which would be revealed if the recording were to be played backwards. There are also some amongst that same group who even believed those messages could compel the listener to all sorts of degenerate behaviors." Another sip of tea as that digests.

"You seem quite enthusiastic about the subject." Garak makes the remark as almost an afterthought as he takes another languid spoonful. Julian does not allow himself to go still or to fidget. He plays the next move very carefully and feels the possibilities fed through his mind rapidly discarded in quick succession. The entire process take no longer than a nanosecond. _Subject change. Divulge personal information of an anecdotal nature._ The cue puts him back into focus and he can feel the calm settle back over him. Of course. Subtle segue it is.

"Well it's an intriguing proposal, don't you think?" But that's a rhetorical question and he doesn't allow Garak to answer before regarding the chocolates as if they were the most important thing in the room. _Be composed- distant, the face of one reminiscing._ "When I was a child living on Inverna II my father gave me a box of Swiss chocolates that a colleague had procured for him." _Though considering the sorts of men who the old man tended to keep on friendly terms with the bugger probably stole it off the back of a freighter somewhere_. "On Earth, Switzerland is rather renowned for its chocolate. So much so in fact," -eye contact, rueful smile- "that my parents would only let me eat one piece of chocolate every Friday night as a treat. I suppose they thought that might make me appreciate things. Savor them if you will." He regards his already eaten sandwich in perfect conclusion. "You see how well that worked out."

Garak allows himself to be distracted but he makes another note of Julian's behavior. He wonders if the good doctor has always been so calculating. He has always been in Garak's mind a far more suspicious character than Garak would ever consider himself just by his very nature- too neat and pat in a little naive young doctor package. But today he's just a little too perfect. He's too… in character as some might even say. Garak smiles from behind a glass.

"Is that how I should eat these then?" he asks noting the small symbol stamped on the corner of the box. There comes that flicker again. That same look of a subject right before he perfects his lie at the eye of the interrogation and believes he's won. Garak waits for confirmation and it comes exactly as expected.

"If you don't find the notion too silly." Julian ducks his head with just the right amount of self deprecation and just in time to hide the self congratulatory smugness that's quick enough anyone else would think it was all imagination. _Charming I'm sure, but I'm not one of your conquests doctor. Although you seem to be acting as if you believe you have in fact conquered something_. Garak makes sure to give a conciliatory smile as he agrees to the idea and the doctor does well to hide his excitement as he asks if he may sample the first now. _Well it isn't likely to be poisoned in any case._ If Julian had assassination as his goal as the chief medical officer on board he'd hardly have to resort to poisoning a box of chocolates to rid himself of one Cardassian tailor. That automatic suspicion discarded he decides to merely follow along with the game and lets the confection melt on his tongue.

The lettering on the box is alien to him and he lets the doctor's voice of soft explanation wash over him as he savors the small round piece. The chocolate is slow to melt but when it does it creates a thick coating of delicate bitterness with a hint of fruity sweetness: cherry, is he recalls his human fruits correctly. He lets the chocolate roll over his tongue, considers the viscosity and he thinks perhaps Julian is more culturally astute than he gave him credit for to find something the Cardassian would enjoy so greatly. He shuts his eyes, feels almost disoriented and will let himself deconstruct the layering of memories later for the doctor's talk of composition, origin, and a thousand other things he's sure he'll find fascinating in the quiet of his own quarters. Because the shell has almost completely melted and a sweeter, creamier inside marries the fading bitterness and Garak wonders if Julian was telling him the truth or if he'd spent what seems to be a tidy sum of money to procure a delicacy of this quality. He can almost forget, he can almost let his guard down and linger in that moment as the chocolate slides down his throat.

Until the moment it hits him that is. _And this, dear doctor, is why I never trust anyone, no matter the circumstances, no matter how charming their boyish smile or how many morally superior Federation speeches they may give. _But far from disappointed, Julian only rises in his estimation when he feels the almost undetectable chemical residue on the back of his throat. It has an faint numbing quality nearly perfectly masked by the richness of the filling and complexity of the outer chocolate shell and it passes almost as quickly as he identifies it. He already knows he'll have to invest time and possibly resources into studying it but as he opens his eyes, the infernal brightness of the room impinging upon his senses like an unpleasant second sun, he finds that thought can wait just a moment longer. He shakes his head- even slightly disoriented he never allows himself to falter- and he simply smiles at Julian.

"Well, doctor, I can see why one should only eat one of these a day."

Julian allows for a self satisfied expression. It remains in character and he laughs. He likes that particular laugh. It affects just the right amount of warmth- amusement without being cruel- and a little but of truth for good measure.

"I was afraid I might have to put my medical training to some use if you hadn't opened your eyes when you had, Garak." He raises a suggestive eyebrow. "Perhaps tomorrow you might eat one in the privacy of your own quarters where you'll be able to savor it properly." _And perhaps in the not too distant future you might allow me to join you without the aid of several bottles of kanar. _Of course he will. He won't have a choice, after all. _Isn't that right, doctor?_ There is silence, of course. The stupid simple doctor lacks the imagination to pursue such a richly dark liaison. Garak raises his glass as if in toast giving him the same placid smile he has time and time again. _Enjoy it while it lasts, Garak._

"Perhaps I shall." _Check_.


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone reading. This chapter got very long and is definitely getting down the darker road. More characters will be appearing in later chapters and the plot thickens so to speak. There is going to be some Julian and Leeta as well here and in upcoming chapters. Also couldn't resist throwing in another line from "A Clockwork Orange." C&C is always welcome!

2

_The hair fell back in his eyes and Dr. Julian Bashir blew it away with an annoyed toss of his head. The atmosphere in Quarks buzzed around him and he studiously ignored it studying the datapad. _

"_Excuse me." His eyes shifted to the side clearly having difficulty seeing through the curtain of bangs. Still, he didn't turn his head until the second time the voice more insistently asked for his attention. Julian looked up then, assessing the newcomer as he set the datapad down. "You're Doctor Bashir, aren't you?" He appeared amused at the question._

"_Some would say so." His eyes were distant for a moment and the red haired woman took another step with obvious hesitation._

"_I'm Leeta. I've been meaning to come by the infirmary to see you."_

"_Have you now?" Julian smiled and Leeta coughed twice as he watched her with a raised eyebrow. _

"_Yes, it is a disease that plagues us all, isn't it?" He spoke the query softly to himself as if again sharing some sort of inside joke._

"_Doctor?" She blinked at him not quite understand and Julian stood up at last laughing softly. _

"_Oh you mustn't mind me. I haven't been well myself, you see." He gave another chuckle at this. "They all keep asking if I'm alright..." He stood up straighter as if donning a new suit in the mirror and closed the small gap of space between them. "But I've never been better, actually." His voice was soft- husky- and Leeta shivered as he caught her eyes with a vivid intensity and leaned in._

_She looked surprised as he brought his face within inches of hers but didn't step back. Julian tipped his head and touched his index and middle finger to her throat with the tender stroke one would give a kitten. He pressed gently and breathed in the scent of her perfume ignoring the looks he was getting from the other patrons. From behind the counter Quark began discreetly initiating a new series of bets once again centered around the doctor's increasingly erratic behavior. The odds were three to one that he would earn himself a slap._

"_Your pulse is fluttering like a little bird," Julian whispered feeling her shiver against him. Leeta's hands came up to push him away, her expression flushed and overwhelmed. His hands were around her wrists faster than she realized yet at the same time he stepped back, giving her space. Julian let his thumbs rest against the soft skin of her inner wrist but he took careful pains not to be rough keeping his eyes only on her until she looked down._

"_Doctor I-"_

"_Are you afraid of me?" he asked wearing the most wounded of expressions as he set her arms gently down. "But how am I ever to heal you darling if you don't trust me?" Julian brushed the side of her face with a near reverent touch eying her throat with an unreadable expression. He felt her tension slowly dissipate as he traced the line of her jaw. "That's a good little lark," _

_There was a slight sway to her stance as she listened to the particular cadence of his voice. Julian leaned in with another series of whispers undetectable to anyone else present and as he spoke, Leeta's eyes fell nearly shut. Julian's hand fell to her shoulder to steady her and he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek,_

"_I'm going to free you from your cage, my little lark. I'm going to give you… everything… you desire… Make you into everything you ought to be…" Julian's voice was a warm wavelength of sound, soft and melodic like a familiar song. It was only when he saw Jadzia approaching out of the corner of his eye that lowered his hand with a last lingering caress to her fingers. "Tonight." Julian turned his head, glancing up in time to see Jadzia frown at him. She had been doing that a lot over the last several weeks. He merely smiled in return as he left Leeta standing there quietly. "Come to my quarters- and you'll learn how to fly."_

* * *

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Garak, there was a last minute emergency in the infirmary." He's careful not to immediately feel his pocket for the second isolinear rod keeping his anticipation tightly in check. The first had already passed the previous week without a hitch and he can't afford to be careless. The doctor might gush like a school girl to Garak about whatever stupid thing had his fancy at any given moment but _he_ is not the doctor and he keeps his face neutral as Garak smiles at him.

"Think nothing of it, doctor, I'd only just gotten here myself."

'You don't need to keep doing this.'

'As always, doctor, you're a slave to your ridiculously fabricated morality rather than the reality of your desires.'

'These are _your_ perverse feelings, not mine.'

'Do you really believe that?'

There's a pause there and Julian considers how effective such suppression truly had been. After all, if the doctor truly did not desire- 'This is _wrong_!' Which not the objection he ought to making right now from Julian's point of view. Somehow that annoys him.

'Wrong? Oh no, no doctor it is not _wrong_! To be "wrong" is to be inferior. To be wrong, is to be fallible. And we are neither of those things now, are we?' And in the span of time it takes him to process, to compartmentalize, to argue with that infuriating dullard he registers only a fraction of a second passing as he set down the plate bearing two scones and the cup of unsweetened Tarkalian Tea.

Julian takes a drink watching as Garak silently watches him. He knows his hair is longer than the time frame would allow for and the but that's none of Garak's damn business.

"I must admit, that the composition you'd given me last week wasn't entirely what I was expecting," he says at last so Garak will stop that assessing look. The "music" was heart attack inducing. He'd felt like his lungs were going to burst from the reverberation before he was able to lower the volume and the bass. Julian had sworn when his head finally stopped pounding that Garak had done that on purpose.

'Certainly would have served you right if he had.' Julian can't help the way his eyes flicker unconsciously to the side as if the doctor were sitting beside him and not buried inside his mind. He holds back the irritated hiss. 'Maybe this next one will stun some sense back into-'

'Maybe _this_ one will shake you right out of my head, doctor.' He forces his grip to loosen on the cup before he breaks the damn thing in his anger.

Garak pretends not to notice anything untoward about Julian's reaction as he pushes the isolinear rod across the table.

"And that is why, dear doctor, I thought to start you out with something a little more conservative to alien ears." Unless of course one were a specific type of incorporeal being in which case the specialized recording from one of the science ministry's less savory divisions could be fatal. "I do hope you weren't… overwhelmed." Garak affects a solicitous expression. "I've been told by some that the effects on non Cardassian physiology can sometimes be… intense." Garak observes an interesting shift of Julian's face and adjusts his suspicions accordingly. He can see the crease of consternation and like before where Julian had displayed an uncharacteristic outburst of anger in Quark's he can see the telltale tremble of his hand. But just like that it's gone and replaced by the familiar face of Dr. Julian Bashir. The tension on the cup is completely erased.

"Well if that's what you call mild perhaps I ought to be afraid of what you have in store for me this week." Julian breaks off a piece of the scone slipping the small bite into his mouth with unusual indulgence. He's far more open with these newly acquired mannerisms this week. Garak's eyes follow the small lick to the tip of Julian's fingers and there's a small part of him that's terribly tempted to damn whatever wants to uncover the mystery and just… enjoy himself. _But I owe you far better than that, doctor. And the game itself is proving to be rather… titillating. _ Garak chooses his next words carefully.

"I assure you, my dear, it's perfectly safe. Cardassian music is woefully unsuited to harboring subliminal messages."

The reaction comes almost instantly to the human word inserted deliberately into the conversation. The word is an older human construct and there isn't any proper equivalent in Cardassian or most other alien languages that Garak's research indicated. The translator never would have used that word- no it comes straight from Garak himself. The pronunciation might have been incorrect but the effect is telling all the same. Garak watches the hand still midway to breaking off another piece of scone and that flash of the familiar vanishes. Garak begins to wonder if it truly is time to rule out an alien presence in the doctor's mind as he sees a small tilt of the head one might give when listening to something. Irritation gives way to panic, to fear. The lies rushing over Julian's face- every infinitesimal tic- clear as day_. You know you've never used that word and you know that I suspect your intentions to be less than noble. But the question remains just what are_ _your intentions?_

Julian freezes. _Laugh but don't overcompensate_, he tells himself in that quick second. _Don't go for the cup. Drinking instead of responding would indicate nervousness- guilt. And you have no reason to feel anything untoward about the comment. You're not that sharp. You don't pick up on these things. That's not the doctor, Jules._ Julian laughs just enough as he removes the isolinear rod from his own pocket. The excitement is almost tangible, an excited quickening of his pulse and he's back on top where he ought to be playing the game perfectly. _Let's just see how strong your control over your own mind truly is, Elim Garak. The only question remaining then is when and where now, isn't it?_

"And here I was afraid you were going to hypnotize me into buying a new summer wardrobe." Julian's hand is steady as he holds the rod out for Garak to take.

Julian also makes sure their hands don't touch as he gives it over not noticing Garak's eyes observing the precise movement followed by retreat. _If my memory serves, and it always has, you've taken great pains to avoid any physical contact at all these past few weeks_. Could it be the incarnation from the mirror universe the doctor spoke of? He watches Julian take another finicky morsel of the pastry. He considers that the hair once more. _No, the mirror would have had those minor differences from the start and if not then he'd be trying to blend in far more. _The mystery intrigues him far more than is healthy. Julian sees him watching and lets his thumb slip just a little bit inside his mouth to clean the jam with more effort than necessary. Garak smiles.

"Much as you might be in dire need of a change in attire, doctor I hold out hope for reason and enlightenment winning out over... utility."

Julian shakes his head bringing the long standing argument to its usual stalemate with a last catlike lap to the tip of his thumb averting his eyes almost coyly.

"I suppose you're right then, I don't give you enough credit for being an optimist after all." He picks up the isolinear rod Garak placed in the table and looks at it curiously. "You don't have any special instructions for this one, do you?"

"Well I would highly advise against mastication." Garak pockets the rod Julian had handed him and watches him suddenly begin his usual speed eating ritual. _And here there should be that telltale stiffening when you think your dignity has been affronted but no, your entire body posture has changed. Julian Bashir the first is back in full force it would seem. _Garak sips his soup with consideration.

"You're certainly in a glib mood today," the doctor- he's determined at least a ninety eight percent probability that he _is_ speaking with the doctor this time- remarks quickly finishing the scone. Garak shakes his head in response.

"Ah, but things are seldom as they appear, doctor." he watches for any reaction and sees nothing but Julian as he's always known sitting in front of him looking with guileless curiosity. "You know how it is in the world of fashion" Garak continues noting the charming look of familiar disappointment. _You should not still be finding him half as attractive as you do._ "The wedding isn't for another three months but if the dress isn't properly let out by this evening somehow our two starscrossed lovers might be doomed to death marked love- my words, of course, not the bride's." Garak smiles in amusement as he recalls the mother of the bride and the equally charming young miss were not quite so eloquent in their histrionics.

_And hello again._ There's a flash that he sees on Julian's face- another glimpse of that familiar irritation- and it's far too intriguing reaction to what was nothing more than innocuous small talk.

"Doctor?"

"Death marked love, you say?" Julian doesn't meet his eyes, his gaze strangely averted once more as if he's impatiently listening to something only he can hear. He rests his head on his hand with an interesting tilt, a look of lazy seduction in his eyes that calls to Garak to respond in kind. "Oh surely you're not going to toss out that little tease and leave me hanging here, are you?" he all but purrs. Of course, Caesar had been the topic of their last debate not any other Shakespearian work and as Garak is learning, Julian the second does not react well to surprises.

"I might have sought out a little extra Shakespeare on the side," he says offhandedly watching Julian's eyes blinking thoughtfully.

But Garak has no intention of giving him time to mull that over. "And shame on you for your callous maligning of Shoggoth. I've yet to read the single work of your 'bard' that isn't both completely predictable and utterly devoid of what you humans call 'common sense'. At least when Erza murdered Dellal in Beneath the Scarlet Moon it was a neat, nearly undetectable affair."

"Didn't she dispose of the body by feeding him to his own riding hounds?"

"It is a far more palatable scene than Tamora being stabbed to death in the middle of a dinner party."

"For a man who referred to Candid as 'irredeemable pornography' I find that a little… hard to swallow." Another half-smile accompanied by a sensual drawl, and Garak can't help but think that Julian the second wears seduction like an arrogant adolescent. _And you most certainly should not be finding this_ _Julian anything resembling desirable either. _He takes another spoonful of the soup, letting himself become pleasurably distracted as Julian begins to fidget with his hair. _Tain would be terribly disappointed in you._

"Violence, like sex, my dear," he finds himself saying in answer to the coquettish demeanor, "is an act that all too readily lends itself to obscenity." As he speaks, he sees Julian pick his head up just a little and that index finger move to toy with the open collar of the jacket. Julian's eyes are bright as he hangs off his every word. Garak looks at the inviting exposed skin and the intensity of that stare beckons him to let his eyes linger a touch more than he otherwise would out in the open like this. "There is a certain skill one must possess-" Garak doesn't drop that look for a moment but instead meets it head on "-in order to transform violence into art." He would have never spoken that way to the Julian Bashir that he's known for the last three years but in this moment he knows for a fact as those eyes continue to bore into his that the man in front of him is _not_ the same Dr. Julian Bashir.

Garak's expression grows darker and it makes Julian's pulse quicken.

"One must be willing to cut away…" Julian licks his lips as that voice caresses his auditory senses and he shifts his leg underneath sliding one hand just below his knee as he curls it under, squeezing, massaging to break that unbearable tension. "To dye…" And the emphasis on the homophone freezes his blood in the most delightful way imaginable. "And of course," Garak finishes, sitting back looking far too damn satisfied with himself, "-the tinge of justice is one of the most brilliant dyes one can employ for such an undertaking. The Cardassian state being the most expert of artisans." Julian practically kneads at his leg, keeping the more obvious affectation in check though his fingers ache to twine around the finely spun threads of silver underneath the tunic. _The chains which bind Prometheus for daring to bring fire to man… _

The necessity of restraint makes Julian feel trapped in confines of the damn Starfleet uniform. He wishes they weren't in this station. He wishes that he wasn't watching for the fucking doctor or the other officers he's sure are keeping tabs on him, but most of all he longs to be back in total control. He can't remember how to breathe and as he looks down feeling the noose tighten around him he knows that Garak still has his eyes on him. _You know what you're supposed to do, dammit. You're supposed to rise to the bait and make some allusion to Garak's shaded past. You're supposed to keep up this miserable charade until all the pieces are in play and make sure this lot of chattel doesn't suspect anything more than the after effects of your trauma._ But right now at this table across from Garak it's all a bunch of pointless shite when they both know full well that this is nothing more than a game and Julian's mouth remains firmly closed in defiance of expectation.

Until suddenly it isn't and his head spins as it's completely out of his control.

"You're missing the point of everything, Garak." Julian hears himself speak. He feels his mouth moving. It isn't him that's speaking. "The point of the tragedies," of course it's the doctor, "is to showcase the fatal flaw of the hero leading to his demise." He almost throws his hands over his mouth to shut the git up. "It's not to play a five hundred page matching game. If you focus on the violence… if you only focus on the overdone obscenity of flesh and blood… Then you're not _seeing_ the bigger picture. You're not seeing the heart of the pieces and there are far more layers to this vessel than you'd think." He can feel the tightness of his jaw as he fights and he almost thinks his head is about to split open. _Don't you dare_. "You're not _seeing_ it, Garak." But if Garak isn't, Julian is, and he seethes. "Othello is _driven mad_ with jealousy. King Lear cannot _see_ _past appearances _because of his arrogance!" Garak is analyzing him curiously and he can feel that anger flooding him. '_You want him to see you, doctor? Well maybe he isn't seeing you because he doesn't want_ _to fucking see you! So sod off, this isn't your damn body anymore!' _"If you would just look at-!"

Julian coughs violently, head thrown over the table eyes flashing dangerously as his nails dig into the side of his neck nearly hard enough to draw blood. _Shuttup, damn you shuttup!_ It's red. Nothing but deep dark crimson and he feels like his head is about to explode with agitation or that he may even swallow his own tongue but he forces himself to be calm. Julian himself back in control imagining nothing less than the doctor up in flames- immolated and shrieking his death throes- and at last he looks up defiantly. He lowers his hands, hair hiding the dark red half-moons marking the skin.

Julian's face feels flush and just as he's about to take a drink he catches sight of Garak meticulously unwrapping one of the chocolates he'd given him.

"Poison," Garak remarks as he studies the carefully molded candy, "is another method I've never been terribly fond of." He rolls the truffle around in his palm and Julian wonders if he isn't being toyed with. "It's far too imprecise and messy."

"Is that in your _personal_ experience, Garak?" Julian snaps wishing he'd stop arsing around and just _eat_ the damn thing before it melts.

"Pycan space moths, doctor," Garak replies in a tone that is nothing if not baiting, "are not only crippling to any deep space station clothier but they're notoriously hard to exterminate… and quite hard to detect unless one knows what to look for."

"We are not talking about Pycan space moths!" Julian rises, slamming a hand down on the table just as Garak primly pops the chocolate into his mouth. Garak says nothing, only watches in amusement as the warm cacao coats his tongue and the other patrons turn to stare at them. He allows the sweetness of rokassa juice to wash any lingering bitterness from his throat as Julian stammers an apology and sits back down. Garak's eyes don't miss the trembling scratch of nails over the table top, and he thinks it's hasn't been neatly long enough since anyone has so clearly wished to do commit violence upon his person.

"You might consider moderating your tone, doctor," he offers watching Julian's head jerk up in the midst of trying to calm himself down, "lest the other patrons think they're observing Cardassian courtship at work."

Garak doesn't bother keeping his amusement hidden this time as he watches that fetching look of arrogance turned disbelief on Julian's face.

"Unless of course, that was your intention all along in which case I must say I'm flattered but-"

"You..." Garak studies the play of emotions with a detachment borne of years of experience as he continues to remain perfectly steady. Julian clears his throat, and that stunned faltering slowly morphs to a anger blooming like a delicate flower in accelerated time. Julian makes another false start and while his face is flushed it is not with the doctor's embarrassment but the usurer's affront. Garak sees him tug furiously at the collar of his uniform nearly scratching the skin and a vision of raking his own nails down the exposure quickly flickers through his thoughts; he files that away for later.

"Believe me, Elim Garak if it was my intention to give you a fucking knob job you'd bloody well know it."

"Is that so?" Garak asks with mock surprise.

"Yes that is very much so!" Julian doesn't seem to be able to resist striking the table again and Garak is sure they've once more attracted an audience. He lifts his glass very much enjoying the display.

"In that case, might I offer my services in local customs next time you find yourself visiting Cardassia Prime, doctor. Not everyone is as much of a gentleman as I am and I would hate for you to find yourself in a situation you're… ill equipped to handle." He punctuates the statement with a rather reptilian flick of his tongue to the sweet juice as he raises the glass high enough to hide the rest of his face.

"Is that so?" Julian's voice is quiet as he parrots the question carefully watching the rest of the replimat until the majority have decided things aren't about to get interesting again. It's too much. Julian can once more hear his own pulse in his head and it drowns anything else. _Thump._ His vision goes red. _Thump._ It's nothing but brilliant scarlet. _Thumpthump_ And he's sure Garak is saying something else but it doesn't matter. _You have no idea..._ _You have no idea just who the hell you're..._ That pulse intensifies, vision swimming in a sea of scarlet until it looks like a bloodied lens. Julian sees Garak leaning across the table softly speaking with that sickening patronizing concern. _Concern for him, for your fucking patsy but I'm not him and you're not making a fool out of me. _The doctor is gone- dead and damned to the world or wherever Julian shut him away and it's nothing but empty blessed silence. _Perfect._

Julian looks up from dark, almost black eyes with a wicked smile on his face and a nasty playfulness to his countenance. The fingers finally dare to drip below the neckline, toying with the chain as if he's God about to pass judgment and he leans in catching Garak on the shoulder with his free hand and a small titter of laughter.

"You're taking the piss out of me again, aren't you, you Cardie bastard?" Julian's voice is light, teasing, and he doesn't let Garak respond to the insult. This is his game now and _he's _the one in control. _You think that only you can skirt the shadows, Elim Garak? Why don't I show you what real power looks like?_ "But you don't have to answer that, Garak, luv." Julian laughs softly sliding the chain twined fingers up the side of his face as if deciding where to strike. "In fact, why don't I let you in on a little secret…"

Julian licks his lips, the anticipation worth every moment locked away in silence and whatever motivation keeps Garak still he seizes upon it. "I am the key," He whispers into the charged air between them. Julian dares where even Ogden Salsbury remained hidden on in the darkness. _The darkness may be where stars shine the brightest but I'm no star I'm the god of the fucking sun_. He's a quasar ready to erupt into brilliance and he holds his breath and waits. He doesn't fail. Julian never fails. But not even the expectation of triumph can prepare him for the rush of adrenaline seeing Garak blink at him as little more than a glassy eyed doll.

"I am the lock." It's hard to reconcile the automated voice devoid of inflection, of warmth, and Julian frowns petulantly even as he gives that shoulder a squeeze and exults in his control. _I don't want this damn shell. I don't want this empty eyed protoform. I was you, alive and aware, and in my thrall as you ought to be._ But this was what he has now. And right now this is all his to command. He drops his hand sitting back regally.

"Assume your normal posture," he orders softly so that no one will notice anything amiss. Garak obeys completely. "I don't have much time, dear Garak," he says with that superior grin, "and in another few moments you'll be back and remembering nothing but teasing me about my…" He has to remind himself to remain steady. "The last thing you recall is teasing me about flirting with you..." He laughs softly out of breath seeing that the eyes no longer watch them so closely without the loud spectacle to keep them entertained. "...teasing me... you're always teasing me Garak... but this time..." He swallows and shifts both legs under him on the seat. "This time it's my turn to tease…"

Garak blinks slowly, looking at Julian just as he finishes speaking.

"We are creatures of ego, after all, Garak," Those are somehow the only words he remembers having lost a portion of the conversation. There is no doubt as to the source- Julian resembles a child who's just gotten away with something exceptionally naughty. And the time is off. The temperature of his soup has dropped more than even his leisurely eating usually results in. Yes, Julian is definitely the source. _It seems you have another layer to add to the mystery once the sample returns, Elim. _Ha takes another spoonful of soup as if he's unaware that there's a difference. There are still two weeks until the analysis of the sample will be ready. _And depending on the results, my dear I might consider charging you for the cost._ An internal check of his vitals- at least to the basest level- doesn't set off any alarm bells. No, the only thing off about the entire situation is the man sitting across the table from him. Once again Julian is back to being perfectly, painfully ordinary and in spite of his best attempts, even _his_ memory can bring nothing to the forefront. Garak is thoughtful as he answers at last.

"Ego, yes. That would be Caesar's fatal flaw, I believe."

* * *

_The light from the datapad was the only illumination in the room but Julian's eyes easily adjusted to darkness. Naked, he laid on his stomach on his bed, hair lazily pulled back to the nape of his neck. He tapped thoughtfully, considering the next key part of the operation, wondering how he might be able to tie in Dr. Lenz's impending visit. He had no doubt that he would be able to make use of her once she arrived on the station. Julian was counting down the days and he made sure to note the date. Everything in his mind was a perfect arrangement, the plans carefully vaulted in the Cathedral, back with the maps and other topographical references. It was far safer means of storage. Julian scrolled down, reading off the series of numbers, the cryptographs meaningless to all but him and even then they were little more than a series of cues. His mind was a perfect quiet, working in the silence with a precision he hadn't felt in-_

"_Julian?"_

_Leeta's voice, the barest whisper was unbearably loud in the room. _

"_It's late." He whispered with a kindness he was hardly feeling. "Go back to sleep, darling." Julian didn't look up from the datapad as he continued to add a few more codes to the list. He heard the bed shift and felt her hand on his naked back. He'd have to make sure to disabuse her of that presumptuous physical contact. But for now, Julian was careful not to flinch or pull away. _

"_It's late for doctors too," she teased and he entered a few more codes before turning to look at her. He could see the outline of her body perfectly in the dim lighting. Charming- she was so terribly charming. 'Doctors perhaps, but those of us born to a higher purpose have little need for such wasteful things as excessive indolence.' Julian set the datapad down and turned on his side looking up at her while managing to look down at the same time. He doubted she could see him half as well anyway._

_Julian gently disengaged that hand which continued to touch him and rubbed the soft skin of her palm against his face with a perfectly affected sigh of contentment._

"_You're such a thoughtful little lark but this little lark has a lot of work to do tomorrow, doesn't she?" He squeezed her hand not unkindly. Leeta's slight frown was evident, enhanced vision or not. He smoothed away that frown sitting and decided to let her see that he could see her perfectly. "I need my eyes and ears, luv. I need you so terribly you know..." Julian leaned in and allowed his lips to brush the side of her mouth lightly. Tomorrow would begin the test and from there it would be easy to keep her going. _

"_It's not that I don't believe Jules," she hastily added and that pleased him. "It's just… it's Quark. I swear that little miser doesn't miss much and I don't want to lose my-"_

"_And here you said you believe," he chastised releasing her, pulling away when she put a hand on his shoulder. _

"_Jules, I-"_

"_If you cannot have faith in the vision of the Prophets... If you cannot trust_ _in the Emissary... in the word of his highest disciple then how can you possibly say you believe?" Julian's voice grew louder, infused with a mixture of incredulity and disdain._

"_Don't question my faith in the Prophets, Jules! I've spent my entire life-"_

"_Don't question?!" He rose from the bed. "Computer, lights." The lights came on and he saw her temporarily blinded, her nudity, her vulnerability so fucking brilliant he wanted to slide back onto the bed and fuck her again willing or not. "I'm not the one questioning, Leeta," 'And how dare_ _you presume to speak to me as an equal.' "I'm_ _the one speaking for the Prophets. I'm the one blessing you with the vision the Emissary has for a new world, a marriage of all races in harmony and you sit there like a petulant child worried about one Ferengi barkeep!"_

_Julian was loud but made no movement towards her- no that wasn't the play he was making right now._ _Leeta was distressed but not to tears and that mettle would certainly serve him well should he takes pains to bend and not break it. She didn't answer him immediately and he took the time to throw on a robe running frustrated fingers through his still sweat dampened hair. He turned away as if he couldn't bear the sight of her._

"_This was a mistake." He listened carefully and heard faint rustling, heard her shift as if she might rise but she hesitated. "But how... can it possibly…" He spoke to himself making sure it was loud enough for her to hear. "But how_ _could the Prophets have been wrong when they showed me the way?" is voice was pitched to the pinnacle of despair and she seized on that opening as he knew she would._

"_They're not wrong, Jules!" He allowed himself to turn back around keeping his arms crossed. "It's me! I..." She looked down after the initial outburst and he could see the tremble of her body as she aborted an instinctive reaction to cover her nakedness. Leeta looked at him every bit of earnest in her eyes and he made sure to shift to his most open and forgiven expression. Benevolence. That was the hallmark of Saint Jules and he closed the robe tighter so she wouldn't see him getting hard again with the excitement. She mistook the gesture for uncertainty but that only made her more determined to convince him. 'Poor pitiful Jules, yes darling, you know just what I need to hear now, don't you?'_

"_The Prophets aren't wrong Jules," She repeated firmly. Leeta stood up and Julian's hands paused on the belt of the robe letting her rest her hands over his. Let her think she was guiding him, after all. "You're_ _not wrong," 'That's a good girl. Tell me again just how-'_

"_I'm so terribly sorry Leeta." He wasn't sure at first that it was him that spoke but it was and he felt that odd disconnect whenever the damn doctor was trying to reassert himself. But this time he thought it almost might work in his favor if he was able to clean up the damage properly afterwards. "You shouldn't be here... not like this," he heard himself say and her stricken expression at the words showed such a different interpretation at that ignorant prat's guilt. His internal laughter echoed inside whatever chamber he'd been shunted off to as she protested even more fiercely._

"_No Jules, I have to be here!"_

"_Please Leeta just listen to me I don't have-" _

"_Hey don't go underestimating me, Jules!" Oh that pang he felt when she called him "Jules"! She squeezed his hands in what she likely thought was reassurance . "I do that enough myself sometimes. We're in this together, right?" And there was that unwelcoming unasked for touching of his face but staring at the cute little wrinkle of her nose while the doctor continued some mental self-flagellation made it more than excusable. He felt the hopelessness pouring over him in waves and he shrugged it off like molted scales feeling almost giddy as he stomped the bastard back down. Julian leaned in and kissed her lips feeling a rush greater than anything Miles ever procured for him to imbibe._

"_You're right of course. You... are my most precious little lark, Leeta, the first of many but right now..." Julian promised giving a chaste little kiss to her forehead, "right now you are the one I want to reward the most when the vision comes to pass." He strokes her hair in an almost fatherly gesture shushing any protest of reward for doing the work of the Prophets. "I want you to have your restaurant. We want you to have all your little dreams and our highest blessings- strength, health, and an eternal life exalted... But we need you, darling." Leeta looked up at him trusting, so terribly trusting of Dr. Julian Bashir disciple of the Emissary that he felt a wave of nausea bubbling up from the last vestiges of the doctor. "You see what I cannot see, and hear what I cannot hear. Just like a little songbird, my Leeta." Julian was sure to breathe her name with all the devotion he could muster and his fingers danced down the nape of her neck until she leaned against him._

"_Yes, Jules," she whispered with an obedience that wasn't half as strong before._

'_She doesn't deserve this.' He'd grown far better at masking any sign of the other presence and only allowed the smallest shift of his eyes in response to that voice._

'_She deserves everything that I can give her, doctor. I'll give her the world, you know that. Anyone who follows me-'_

'_-is poisoned! Is irreversibly damaged. Is-'_

'_-transformed beyond the meager potential they started with. Surely you don't think that you're any different?'_

'_I am nothing like you. I __**help**_ _people. I __**save**_ _people.'_

'_Such a terribly noble hero you are, but you're already too late. This one is mine, doctor. And I don't intend to stop with her either.'_

_Julian put his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him, as if she were the only one anchoring him to the world. Leeta murmured some more religious nonsense and already he was thinking steps ahead to the next phases of the plan. Quark, Miles, Garak, it all tied together and the end result was-_

"_I'm sorry, Jules." Such a perfect perfunctory thing to say yet he could tell she actually meant it as she put her head on his shoulder. Yes, he definitely needed to fuck her again._

"_The Prophets don't need apologies my little lark. They already know what's in your heart." He let her go and pressed between her breasts carefully controlling any reaction outward excitement on his part. "I believe in you, Leeta. The Emissary believes in you."_

"_I won't let you down, Jules," she promised. He believed her._

"_I know you won't darling." 'Who says the Prophets are the only gods in the heavens, doctor?' He licked his lips as he drew that finger up to just under her chin. "Now let me kiss it and make it better."_

* * *

Julian glances once again at the datapad in his hand as he toys with the collar of the damn restraining uniform. _Collar indeed, I don't know how the hell he didn't go completely barmy._ His afternoon is filled with more routine appointments and nonsense than he thinks he can bear but he's already counting down the days until he leaves this god forsaken station behind. Julian furrows his brow not hearing but rather _feeling_ the sense of unwelcome coming from the doctor. _I'm winning, damn you. I can't hear you anymore I can't…_ But he stops just then as if he's lost control over his own body and realizes that he's just shy of Garak's Clothier's.

_No, you wouldn't want me to go inside now, would you?_ It is tempting. It is so _very_ tempting… _Twenty nine minutes until the next bloody appointment…_ That's not enough time- not by half for what he wants to do. "But this is so dreadfully _boring_…" He gives a quick glance inside and feels every muscle in his neck straining against the action. Julian feels the thoughts again from earlier. Tardiness on his reputation would look- Julian shakes his head. No, not his reputation: the _doctor's_**. **And these are not his thoughts but the doctor's as well. He continues to look over the screen to the empty shop and smiles prettily for the Bolean who brushes past him.

_I suppose this is far easier for you than nattering in my ear all day about petty morality and your insipid ethics. _There's no answer and Julian draws himself up wearing the uniform with far more majesty than it deserves.

"Oh that's right. I don't have a higher nature to appeal to, isn't that what you would say?" he whispers amused. If nothing but silence greets him it's replaced with a sense of urgency slamming into him making him pause once more. He's going to be late. That's the next thought that enters his mind with far more insistence. _My, you're such a clever one, aren't you?_ Julian tamps that back down and steps inside just as the last customer leaves. He schools his expression into that boring solicitous doctor face as almost an afterthought. Even so he knows Garak doesn't trust him- never trusted the doctor before him either. _And you've never had a single reason to distrust me you damn suspicious snake. Everyone trusts me, Garak, everyone. Three years on this damn station being the perfect patsy to your lies and for what? _But now isn't the time for such distraction. He doesn't want to keep Garak waiting, after all.

Julian, however, does not appear to be aware that Garak has already caught sight of him. The flash of the uniform in the mirror is the first thing that captures his attention as he stands arranging a scarf on the bust of a mannequin. In spite of the pinpricks he feels between his shoulder blades, Garak keeps his back to Julian to give himself enough time to properly survey who it is he'll be speaking with. Julian's grip noticeably loosens on the datapad the more he looks around at the people passing through but nevertheless his eyes harbor the signature aloofness of Julian the second. And the longer he lingers the more Garak sees the demeanor and mannerisms vacillate between two seemingly different men.

_Yes, you're coming along quite nicely now, aren't you? Post- traumatic stress disorder I believe is the story you've been carefully circulating. _Garak watches him just a moment longer before turning around with a non-threatening smile of his own.

"Good afternoon, doctor." He watches Julian smooth that calculating expression into congenial Dr. Bashir as if he were as fluid a being as Odo. Garak hasn't entirely ruled out _that_ probability either no matter how far-fetched it seems.

"I do hope I'm not imposing too much on your time." Julian looks at him in the same manner that he always has yet Garak has his suspicions with this encounter. There's that little overeager lick of lips which follows and it makes Garak's smile grow even wider. _I suppose it's time to see what naughty thing you have planned for today, then._

"Not at all, doctor. In fact, I was just getting ready to close up for lunch." He's certain that Julian already knew that but far be it for him to disappoint in yet another one of these delightful new games. "Is it Wednesday already?" Garak steps towards him finding it almost laughable how easily Julian swallows the exaggerated exclamation. Julian's face radiates innocent amusement with a beacon of arrogance shining behind. Garak wonders how Chief O'Brien has been faring with the new and improved doctor since the change. _Surely I cannot be the only one who sees it, after all. _Nonetheless Garak ignores anything untoward and notes the hair is just a little longer still, obscuring a part of Julian's face in a manner he imagines might be intended to be darkly mysterious. _Perhaps if one were a child easily distracted by theatrics but it does suit this second self of your rather well_.

"Don't worry, Garak, your sense of time isn't slipping it's just..." Slipping is the perfect word to describe the expression on Julian's face or if one were to cache it in racquetball terms missing the ball entirely. For one brief moment dark eyes look at him with a raw desperation that's nearly tangible. It's not the first time he's seen that expression in the last few weeks but it is the most obvious and profound. Julian's lips move not seeming to form any words he can make out and certainly not hear. He attempts to sync the movements with the words he's learned to recognize over the years but there are many that are still far too alien.

"Doctor?" Garak doesn't finish the rest of the sentence and realizes he doesn't need to when he sees a slow blink, clearing away that passing glimpse of fear. He observes a slow motion of fingers toying with what he's established is a series of some sort of jewelry beneath the uniform. The tips of Julian's fingers trace the outline and Julian looks at him with that dark expression that tells him the doctor is very much out. Garak has already sorted through and ruled out numerous other possibilities since their last meeting. Right now every shred of evidence points to nothing but what his eyes say is truth. _But you remember your training, Elim. Eyes always lie and ears can mishear but your instinct is golden_. Especially now that even his memory is suspect.

_So help me Garak if you ask me if I'm alright... _Julian watches that assessing reptilian countenance and it makes him seethe. _Damn you. _Damn the doctor and whatever the hell he's doing because Garak takes a step towards him and Julian freezes again in spite of himself. His hand, his fingertips are still at the collar of his uniform and he can feel the slight tremor as he tries to force the movement finally feeling it break. He shakes his head and brings them to his temple with a small rueful smile.

"My apologies, Garak I'm afraid my head is bothering me today. Just another side effect of the…" He trails off as if it pains him to remember. _But enough of this, Jules, you're wasting precious time._

"Of course. I understand you're still suffering the after effects of your ordeal." And Julian grows tired of the inane small talk, sliding his fingers down the side of his face, tilting his head somewhat dreamily as he imagines, as he takes just a moment to savor that last damn mocking expression before once more diving into darkness. The shop is about as empty as it's going to get for a through way and he needs to act quickly and discreetly.

"And such a terrible ordeal it is, Mr. Garak but I know just what will be a balm to soothe my poor damaged psyche. I am the key." And in that moment Garak is frozen.

"I am the lock." Julian's hand is steady as he brushes the side of Garak's face with a small smirk, the skin smoother against the back of his hand than he would have imagined.

"There was never any doubt of that, darling. But as for locks… Why don't you lock up for lunch and give us a little more privacy?" He steps back and watches the wordless obedience with a soft hiccup from his throat that's half giggle. Julian sets the datapad town on a neatly folded shirt and finally pulls the chains from beneath the tunic with a sigh. His fingers deftly twine the silver links around as he crosses an arm over his midsection under his elbow to watch Garak finish politely hussling the last few stragglers out and closing the doors. Let them find another damn way around. Julian feels that perfect clarity upon him as he loosens his body posture into something far more comfortable. The tilt of his head, the narrowing of his eyes. and the nibbling of chains between his teeth is all finally _him_. Julian revels in that heightened sense of awareness, that feeling of being complete and alive in the world and that clarity of existence is as addictive as Garak's submission.

"Oh if you could only see yourself Mr. 'Cardassians cannot be hypnotized...'" But Julian doesn't allow himself to linger in the main shop. He knows Odo's damn cameras are crammed into every corner of public space and he doesn't need to give the walking flan a fucking show. "Go to the dressing room," Julian orders as soon as Garak is finished, his voice barely above a whisper. He counts to ten before grabbing a tunic that appears to be about his size and follows him making a study of examining the fabric. That sense of anxiety hits him again as he looks to the small open area and it nearly freezes him. He bites his tongue hard until the quickening of his pulse comes from the pain and not whatever mental trickery the doctor is dreaming up. There's not enough time. There's never enough damn time and one day he may freeze every moment he desires into a world of ice but for now he contents himself with following Garak into the dressing room and closing the curtain with barely restrained haste.

The tunic is dropped to the floor with little regard.

"Yes, stay there while we get a good look at you, Garak darling." Julian's voice drops low and there's a distance between them that remains as Garak's eyes stare at him blankly. The chains switch hands as his right now reaches out almost childishly to touch the collar of Garak's tunic. "Aren't you a sight then?" Twine, twist- his right hand mirrors the action of his left as he makes a study of Garak's face. "The doctor…" he confides at last to the automaton in front of him, "is not sexually attracted to men." Julian's hand trails down Garak's shoulder, the soft material rippling beneath his touch as he slides down to the back of Garak's hand. "It is not... in his..." he stammers and feels his face hot and shakes his head. "not in my... parameters it…" He drops the chains and trains his eyes on the dip at the base of Garak's throat. "Why are you doing this to me?" Julian closes his eyes, closes his grip around the hand beneath his and nearly breaks at the slack touch at the feeling of someone who isn't him or isn't _Jules_ afraid to let go.

His palm is sweaty and he can feel himself try not to hyperventilate as the he opens his eyes finding the walls far too close and the colors far too bright.

"You don't…" He swallows as his eyes remain trained on the floor. "You don't even know that it isn't me... that's he's not..." Julian releases Garak's hand and finally dares to look across at that vacant stare. "I suppose it doesn't matter anyway, does it, Garak?" Julian laughs bitterly as he drops his head and wipes his hands on his trousers. "Damn you..." He can feel his body starting to shake and he isn't sure why he hasn't brought Garak out of his trance. "I need to stop this… I know I need to stop this but I just can't…" He runs fingers through his hair and almost gives into the urge to pace. "I'm sorry I shouldn't be I... God I never meant to... I just..."

_Right, Julian, and how are you going to explain any of this to him? Sorry, Garak, I just drugged you, raped your mind, lied to you, lied to everyone, took Leeta and... And why? Because I'm a laboratory experiment gone wrong, of course. A right Dr. Jekyll turned to Mr. Hyde and I no, actually I can't guarantee I can control it or know how to stop him because I've been completely barking mad since they mucked up my brain. God I can't do this... _Julian feels his knees start to buckle and he locks them, leans against the wall and tries to remember to breathe. _And you know what comes next, Julian, it's off to the Institute just like father always said would happen if you didn't stop this madness and_- "No... no not now not now... " It's not going to help if he passes out. _Don't pass out, be strong, fight this, dammit fight it you can't…_. He's not going to pass out. He's not going to-

Julian blinks as the room spins and he forces a deep breath, forces all the air he can into his diaphragm as he inhales and bends over letting the excessive energy flow out of him. He doesn't know why he lost control the way he had. _It's just an aberration. It won't happen again. He's gone. The doctor is dead_ _and he's not coming back. It's all you now, Jules, luv. _Julian huffs as he stands back up.

"No... it's not me. It's _you_, Elim Garak. It's your fucking fault the damn doctor can't stay dead and buried." He slowly circles Garak with a slight sway to his walk, examining, watching for anything which might betray a deception. His eyes move over Garak's body and in a thorough affront to dignity- and sod dignity anyway- he squeezes Garak's ass through the cloth with a soft laugh.

"But he can't have you. You're _mine_," Julian declares in a low voice as he walks back in front of him. "If I have to rip every bit of him out of my fucking head with my own two bloody hands I'll be rid of him."

Julian looks past Garak to the mirror as if he might be able to detect a trace of the meddling doctor. He suddenly slaps Garak's face and sees his unresisting head rock to the side with satisfaction.

"How that now? Surely you didn't think I was going to let that go? We can't just have bloody Julian Bashir rearing his nasty ickle head whenever he pleases can we?" Julian laughs a little titter and slaps his face with the other hand this time. "Maybe one to grow on, right?" He slaps him again laughing louder. "Stupid tit, you're supposed to say 'Thank you sir, may I have another.'" Julian slaps him again with the back of his hand and another exclamation. "Naughty naughty naughty! You filthy old soomka!" It makes him nearly mad with giddiness when that head goes back and forth like a jack in the box and he almost cannot restrain himself. _But oh if there is blood there'll be talk and explanations and nonsense. Stop_.

Julian stops. He's breathing heavier. His mouth dry, and he wets his lips again excited.

"I could have anything I want from you, darling, can't I?" His left hand toys with the collar of Garak's tunic straightening it, letting his fingers brush the warm skin of Garak's neck. He lets his hand trail, circling that thick neck, shivering when Garak's body gives a lovely unconscious physiological reaction to the caress of his neck ridges. "Yes, that's it." Julian half closes his eyes and cups the back of Garak's head as if he would kiss a lover, bringing their faces painfully achingly close. He savors the warmth of Garak's hot breath as he hears the affirmative to the question and with a small tilt of his head he feels the steady exhalations to his face. Julian closes his eyes for however long it takes to let him float and dream. He dreams of imagined Cardassian air and what it will be like to hold an empire of biological perfection with the ex-spy as his slave. _Soon, Jules, soon everything will be within your grasp momentary master of a fraction, of a dot to quote Sagan but it will be the most brilliant dot history has ever seen._

"You cannot lie to me," he declares opening his eyes and pulling back just enough to see the shadow of hazy gray features sharpen to clearness in his vision. "And yet…" he says dreamily as he strokes Garak's slicked back hair, "somehow I still don't believe you." Julian feels heat- no space remaining between them now as his left hand is trapped to his chest between the two of them, the pads of his fingers lightly- so lightly- sliding up to trace the line of those soft lips.

"Have you ever told the truth even one day in your miserable life?" Julian asks so quietly he thinks Garak might not hear even him.

"I always tell the truth, doctor."

The response makes Julian's heart nearly drop out. There is an inflection. There is an infusion of feeling, of personality that should not _exist_ and he searches desperately, those damning fingers still not leaving Garak's mouth.

Even so, even as he tells himself to move back, to be ready to defend himself, as his mind works in rapid succession to fabricate the necessary lies and yet there he stands rooted like some cretin unable to process the most basic of functions. _I don't want to leave you._ The thought comes unbidden and unwelcome and for a horrified second he doesn't know to whom the thought even belongs when at last he nearly falls backwards against the wall looking up anxiously. Garak still hasn't moved and hasn't said anything further. Julian feels the tension still tight and he frowns. _It's has to be the layered memory. It has to be the multi-lateral nuances. _He makes a faint noise of irritation and almost slaps him again.

"Yes it's all true, of course. It's always true- especially the lies," he hisses daring to step back into Garak's personal space, just daring him to come to, to go toe to toe and he feels a hitch in his throat at the insanity of it all. "Of course you're imagining things, Jules," he says quietly as he searches those blue eyes for any signs of further cognizance. Julian leans in closer once more as if he would allow their lips to meet in some cloying cliché fashion. "I can tell lies too, Garak." Julian speaks the words only the barest distance from Garak's mouth and if he were to tip his head, to move just a little closer-. "Doctor Julian Bashir is a lie, Elim Garak," Julian says so softly it's nothing more than breath. "He is nothing but a puppet strung together with subconscious patterns and commands. He is nothing but a fabricated persona and unlike me... he does not himself dream, he does not want, he does not _desire_. But we aren't talking about the doctor now, are we. It's only you and me now. And this is _my_ world."

Julian holds Garak's face between both hands now with a soft purr to Garak's lips not quite kissing him.

He tastes him. Julian flicks his tongue out like a snake sampling the unbearable humidity of the air, the salt of another's skin, and he gently, with such solicitious delicacy laps at those closed lips. His fingers rest on the warm cheeks of that face which remains frozen. Julian licks the corner of Garak's mouth and tastes just a faint hint of rokassa juice. He insinuates his tongue inside that unresisting sliver of an opening and closes his eyes long enough to let a million minutes of fantasy rush by in his head. Julian pokes again, stabs that tip of tongue just a fraction inside hallowed ground feeling the ache, feeling his hands tremble and he wants to just _force_ those broad shoulders down to worship him with that mouth.

Julian's tongue outlines soft lips, traces a perfect slippery wet mosaic against the unresponsive lips remaining still as a corpse and he wonders if not for the warmth if this is what it would be to make love to the dead. It shouldn't make him this fucking _hard_ but he can feel the swell of his cock as he twists and presses to Garak's front with a soft groan.

"This is all-" lick. "Your fucking-" lick. "Fault." He pulls back breathing heavily, letting his hands gently, almost gracefully fall down the front of Garak's tunic and he closes his eyes for just a moment rubbing his cheek against the ridges of Garak's neck panting hard, tightening his grip on the fabric just daring the fucking doctor to object. He presses against Garak's hip torturing himself with the pressure. "I should make you _suffer_. I should make you... so fucking sorry." The room seems to be spinning the more tightly he shuts his eyes and goddammit it's not midnight and he's _not_ turning back to a fucking pumpkin.

His hands loosen and Julian swallows.

"Oh god…" He takes stock of where he stands and steps back almost tripping over himself in his haste to put distance between them vigorously wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand hard enough to feel the scrape of teeth over skin. Julian feels another wave of nausea looking down almost stupidly at his body and wondering in panic why he's in a state of arousal. "God what have I?..." He hears the chirp of his COM badge going off like sirens or phaser fire in his head and his eyes are so wide open that he can feel the painful unblinking rush of air as he looks at Garak terrified.

"I..." Julian grabs the tunic from the floor practically throwing it at him. "I..." The COM badge chirps again. "I was in here trying this on and I..." He feels as if his heart is going to thud out of his chest and he can't help but press his fingers to his lips stupidly feeling an onslaught of excuses, of lies and there's no way out of this. _And is that the start of a liar? One lie on another because the truth is just too…_. "I decided not to purchase it." He finds himself saying to Garak and he starts to shake again. _Stop it!_ "I was c-called away on an emergency to the infirmary." _chirp._ "And if anyone asks you I... you... you needed my help on... god you're a liar make something up already!"

Julian throws the curtain open wondering why his hands still won't stop shaking and as he looks up at the store, at the bright lights and imagines the buzz of patrons walking past outside in the Promenade. He touches the COM badge and his hands steady themselves.

"I'll be right there. Mr. Garak was feeling faint and I was seeing to him." He glances back at the slightly darkened face. "He may have taken a fall as well but everything's fine here. Please give Kang my apologies." He tucks the chains carefully back beneath the collar of his uniform and straightens his hair in the mirror. It's almost as it should be. The face isn't right but it will be. He looks at Garak with a nasty smile and walks back over to him one last time. "You will remember nothing else of what transpired here. Only that you felt faint and I assisted you. Now you will let me out and then go about your business and not come back until two minutes have passed." He indulges himself in one last teasing swipe, one last taste of Garak's mouth and he thinks the next time he just may well kiss him after all as a reward for good behavior as he arranges the tunic over Garak's shoulder in a ridiculous mimicry of a toga. Julian smiles with a contented purr.

"Fare thee well, Caesar."

* * *

_Sloppy_. That's Garak's first thought as he finds himself in the middle of the shop staring at the tunic in his hands. His mind tells him that Julian had to leave on an emergency but he knows better than to trust such easily manipulated things. Garak folds the tunic back up taking note of the time. Time lapse not withstanding, there's something that feels off about his memories and he doesn't seem to be able to pull up any particular details about Julian's visit. _Curious and curiouser to quote a human idiom_. Garak walks into the back, checking the locks, deciding to keep the shop closed for the rest of the day. He doesn't waste time as he pulls up the images on the small screen in the back hidden behind a stack of boxes. _Not that your security isn't more than adequate, Odo, but there are some places I know you dare not tread._

There is a piece of chocolate that makes its way from his pocket to his hand and he stares it at. His hand is still and any thoughts of discarding it, of not eating it are met with resistance from his body. _Fascinating indeed. But soon enough that mystery too will be unravelled. _He unwraps the chocolate thinking that he should be angrier than intrigued, thinking that ten years ago this would be playing out far differently. His hands work the controls quickly as the chocolate melts in his mouth. Garak leans in almost voyeuristically as he rewinds the first camera in the main showroom back to the good doctor's entrance. His memory syncs perfectly with what he sees right up until-

"I am the key." As Julian speaks the words on the screen, Garak sits down with an unreadable expression and watches.


End file.
